Today I wrote about brooding. Surprising, right?! 😉 If you’ve ever felt as though all you do is obsess about creative projects instead of getting anything accomplished, I would like to hope this post would offer you some encouragement. It considers brooding from a different angle.
I’m sharing it here, on my own blog, because I think some of you may also like to read it because I delve into my motivations for writing.
The post, “When You Brood More Than You Write,” is on the blog of the press I work for. Here is a snippet.
Brooding is uncomfortable. Embarrassing. It’s difficult to see the point, and while I wonder what the point could be, I brood some more. What should I do with my book? Should it be fiction or nonfiction? Should I scrap the manuscript and start over?
More than anything, I wrestle with what it means to write in a way that honors the people among whom I grew up, in sub-Saharan West Africa. I vividly remember my farewell feast in northern Benin. Nineteen years old, I was leaving West Africa to pursue a university writing degree in the USA. The community outdid itself on the food. All my favorite dishes. And there were speeches, of course. I made a speech, too. In my best Baatonu, I said I would not forget. I said they were my people. Always would be my people.